Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire
by AnnaAza
Summary: Webs of lies encircled the two until Katara thought she could feel the tangled sticky threads all over as she rubbed her arms to get rid of the strange sensation. Zuko seemed to feel it too and fell abruptly silent. Modern take of "The Southern Raiders." DISCONTINUED.
1. Chapter 1

**My whack at a modern "Southern Raiders" fic. Feel free to review, give constructive criticism, and offer me ideas. **

**LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE**

Katara was well loved, and she knew it.

After her mother had been murdered, they had moved from Alaska to California. Sokka had stuck to her as if they were twins and kept her spirits as high as he could, and her father often laid a comforting hand and hugged her when he sensed her mood was as bleak as smog. At first, Katara had hated the heat of her city and that there was no snow where they had decided to live, but she grew to appreciate the soft heat that tanned her skin, the convenience of biking to the store or to read at the local bookstore, the friends she had made, and her boyfriend, Zuko. She was very close to him, considering he lived on what her father called "the multi-millionaire mansions" villa area on the other side of town. His father and sister did not appreciate her at all, but Zuko considerably brightened up when she invited him away from his home.

Said boyfriend and her had split for the day after a study session, and she was just toweling off from her warm shower when the news station on the radio caught her attention.

"The case of Kya Snow, a middle-aged woman in her early fifties who was abducted from her home in Alaska nine years ago, is now experiencing a positive turn in events. Detectives have traced the abductor, Yon Rha, a Mafia leader, as the prime suspect. His whereabouts are unknown, as are his reasons for his motives, and the investigation is still now underway—"

Katara froze in her tracks as the reporter talked about Yon Rha in general and how people could help the search, but she wasn't paying attention. Her mother was...missing? Why had her father and brother told her that she was dead? Was to because they thought she couldn't handle the truth? That she'd worry every day about whether her mom was alive or dead or being tortured or God only knows what else? How could she not have known? Was that why they moved? She clutched the towel around her body, wondering what her mother had—no, was—enduring while she had been kissing Zuko, having a hot shower after a hearty meal, or having a short nap. The memory of what her day was reeled her in shock. Everything was so normal, so ordinary. But for her mother? And her! Why had no one bothered to tell her after eight years 'By the way, your mom isn't dead. She was just kidnapped'?"

"Katara?" Her father was walking into the kitchen. "Honey, you should put on some pajamas; the windows are still—" He, too, went silent as the radio concluded with a reminder to call a certain number if Kya Snow or Yon Rha was spotted in an area near them, and Katara watched as Hakoda's face paled when he looked at her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, her voice shaking. Her father had the gall not to answer, but looked at the floor and fidgeted his fingers as if playing a piano.

"Eight years!" she exclaimed with anger and passion. "You never told me when I mourned that Mom could be alive! You never told me when I asked if Mom was happy in heaven! You never told me when I cried over Mom's murder, and how I never got to see her body! You never told me anything! Does Sokka know? Is that why he didn't cry as much? Is that why he found it easy to contort me? Did you give him a gag order? Why did you tell him and not me that she was alive?"

"Because I was worried you'd be like me!" Hakoda finally exploded as he snapped his neck up to look her in the eye. "Worrying and praying every night to God, thinking of all the things she could be going through! Wondering if she could last torture, if she was better off dead and resting in peace than being..." Katara flinched as her father began to clench his fists in thought. "I know it was wrong. I know I should have told you, but—"

"I would have preferred knowing than thinking Mom was dead!" she interrupted furiously. "I love Mom! I had wished her alive for so many years, and now I know that she is...but away from us. Missing. For eight years! What would have happened if she had escaped and came knocking here? What would you have told me? What would have Mom said!"

Her father sighed heavily. "Katara—let's talk about this calmly. I would have told you the truth—"

"How long would it have taken if I hadn't heard the news story? Tomorrow? A month? A year? More? When I moved out? When I got married? When I have had children? When, Dad?"

Her father looked pained. "I—"

"Forget it!" she raged, going to her room and slamming the door. "I'm going out. Don't wait up."

She stripped herself of her towel and slid into fresh clothes, grabbing some money as she began to rush out the door.

"At this hour? Katara, where will you go?"

"Somewhere where I know that I won't be lied to!" Katara replied, before slamming the door. Her damp hair did not stream behind her dramatically, nor did her cheeks burn bright with anger, but she knew that she felt a mixture of emotions churning like a tidal wive rolling and smashing inside of her chest.

"I will find Yon Rha myself." 


	2. Chapter 2

**LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE**

There could have been a logical reason why she decided to go to Zuko for advice. Her brother was out of the question; his girlfriend, Suki, wouldn't understand fully the situation; her friend, Toph, who might have good, tough love advice was not allowed to talk to anyone after a certain hour; Aang would sprout his Buddhist wisdom and about "forgiveness"; and Zuko would be available to bother at any time, and he would understand her situation.

Katara clambered onto the city bus, handed the driver some money, and sat down in the front. She was one of the few occupants on the bus: a man in a business suit who was very weary and a college student who looked wasted. When the bus stopped near the villas, she jumped off as soon as the doors opened. There was no guard at the towering black gates, but Zuko had given her the code for them in case she wanted to visit. ("But even I don't want to visit my house, so I don't see why you'd want to.") She pressed the individual silver blocks carved with numbers and opened the handle of the gate, which creaked a little as it slammed shut behind her. Recognizing his house from memory, she walked towards the end of the street and rang the doorbell on the biggest mansion.

Zuko's father—well, it was clear that Zuko had gotten his good looks from his father. Smooth black hair, sharp cheekbones, eyes that looked as golden as a twenty carot bracelet, a smoldering smile, a penetrating gaze, pale smooth skin, and the at least six foot height. Appearance was where the similarities ended, as proved by Ozai's harsh bark of "What the hell do you want?"

"I need to see Zuko." Katara answered calmly.

"You saw him an hour ago; I don't see why you had to come all the way here to talk. Don't you people have Facebook for that?" Ozai snapped curtly, moving to shut the door, but Katara ducked under his arm to enter the house, not trusting the man to stop the door if she put her foot or arm out to deter him from closing it. No wonder Zuko hated his father if she could easily picturing Ozai breaking her arm in a slammed door.

"It's really important." Katara replied as Ozai left the door open to scowl at her.

"Very well, if that's what you want." He frowned at her damp hair and wandering eyes darting to the potential places where Zuko could be. "Fuck. He's in the gym, bloodying his fists on a training dummy. Down to the end of the hall." Katara nodded and forced herself to walk slowly to the double doors while she felt Ozai's gaze on her. She knocked on one of the doors, but got no response. Feeling Ozai's smirk on her back, she rummaged through her jean's pocket and found a small paper clip, leftover money, and lint. Katara remembered the trick she learned when she was ten and bent the paper clip in a way so she could insert one end into the lock and turn the other like a key. The door clicked, and the girl strode through the door and shut it behind her.

Her boyfriend was punching and kicking a training dummy will his his might and shouting angry grunts and yells at it. Katara could appreciate his toned stomach and flexing muscles, but she was more concerned with the heavy rap music with lots of swearing with a guy shouting f-bombs instead of singing that could be heard even though Zuko had his ear buds in. Taking the way that would loop around Zuko and meet him at his face to avoid a surprise attack, Katara gently touched his face and pulled out the ear buds.

"Wha—?" Zuko grumbled, but smiled when he saw Katara shutting off the iPod. "Tara? What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, she handed the music player back to him. "You'll ruin your ears."

"My face is already ruined, what's the big deal?" Zuko shot off due to his quick temper that had not dulled after a half hour slugging the dummy.

"Zuko..." Katara murmured, embracing him. "Don't say that! I have told you that I do not care how your face looks. I care for you, Zuko Wangchu." Zuko kissed her ear in response and frowned when she pulled away. "What?"

Katara wrinkled her nose so cutely that he tapped her on said nose like his mother used to do. She smiled at him. "You smell." Zuko subtly sniffed himself. Perhaps he had been working out for quite a long time...shrugging, he wiped off the wet sweat with a small towel. "Better?"

"Mm, a little."

"...Not that I'm glad to see you, but why are you here at—" he looked at the wall's digital clock protected with a glass case. "eleven?"

"I found out something that I need to solve right away." Katara was replaced by a serious, somber woman that reminded him when (rarely) his uncle pulled him aside for a moment to give him a serious talking-to. "I...My mom. She's still alive; I heard on the news tonight. My dad and Sokka...they never told me! I need to find her kidnapper, Yon Rha. I don't care what it takes! I—"

Zuko suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders. "Yon Rha? Katara, let the police handle it. He's a Mafia leader. It will be as dangerous as if you wanted to go swimming in razors and later bathe in acid. No."

"I thought you would understand!" Katara snapped, pulling away. "If your mom was on that news broadcast, I'm sure you would have thought about it." Zuko looked at her for a long moment and didn't answer as he wiped the sweat from his body and toweled his mess of hair. Katara waited with bated breath for his reply, and she was wise to remain silent as her boyfriend seemed to he thinking about something. Pulling on his shirt, he half-heartedly hit the dummy once and turned to her again. "Katara. What are you doing to do when we find him?"

Katara took in a small moment of hope in her chest as the word we caught her attention. She sighed as Zuko came up behind her to kiss her hair, murmuring her response, "Bring him to justice." Zuko's head froze in her mess of damp hair, then asked, "How are we going to do that?"

"Tranquilizer gun?" she offered, half-joking.

He watched her chew her nails. "If you could shoot him dead, would you?"

Katara's breath seemed to freeze in the warm air of the gym. "I..."

Silence.

He seemed to nod stiffly as if he was confirming something in his head. "Let's go."


End file.
